During six scintillating years of existence, London's experimental jet-setters, Stereolab, have issued an elegant torrent of multi-format releases (many of the loose ends were collected on last year's charming Refried Ectoplasm (Switched On Volume 2)). Seemingly hermetically sealed from contempo contamination, the Lab's is a truly distinct and mesmerizing ouevre, created by both standard instrumentation and antique electronic gizmos (they even did an aptly-named old b-side called ""Moogie Wonderland""). Leader/guitarist Tim Gane and his shifting team of sonic technicians again concoct a sweetly lysergic blend of pulsing Velvet Underground riffs and swinging '60s cocktail pop, graced by the nectarine vocals of Laetitia Sadier and a ubiquitous array of burbling, pinging, bleeping, sproinging synths--the whole deftly chucked in a blender and set to super-cool frappe.
While this third Elektra offering clearly builds on Stereolab's accumulated studio skills, Emperor Tomato Ketchup does signal a tectonic shift in the band's rhythmic agenda. Their prior modus operandi (showcased to blissful, repetitive perfection on 1994 breakthrough, Mars Audiac Quintet) mainly involved the harnessing of a very direct Velvets drone, linear and jangly. The more diverse Ketchup gleefully revels in odd, semi-jazzy time signatures, and borrows from the organic psych-funk textures of '70s kraut-rock avatars like Can, Faust, and Neu. In fact, opener ""Metronomic Underground"" is the most infectious, heady homage to Can I've ever encountered (so delightfully obvious I've tossed the record on and forgot I was listening to Stereolab!), replete with limber bass noodling and arty Damo Suzukian scat vocals.
As usual with these hypnotic hipsters, the avant song titles and Sadier's surreal, part Anglo/part Francais lyrics seem nonsensical on the surface--I can't begin to imagine what exactly a ""Motoroller Scalatron"" or ""Emperor Tomato Ketchup"" are. But somehow it all resonates aesthetically with the music's swinging, space-age ambiance.
The lovely ""Cybele's Reverie,"" previously available only as an import single, is an undeniable highlight, its gentle, cyclical sweep gilded with melodies pure and insistent. The intricate groove of ""Spark Plug"" and overlay of rhythms on metaphysical ballad ""Tomorrow Is Already Here"" prove nearly as sublime, while briskly vibrant ""The Noise of Carpet"" approaches punk velocity. The truly strange hiccuping beat and singsong vocal of ""Motoroller Scalatron"" ought to collapse the tune under the weight of its own pretension, but the discrete sonic units knit together into a unlikely gem. Subdued, transcendent finale ""Anonymos Collective"" might very well be a lullaby for extraterrestrials.
Deeper and more texturally and melodically accomplished, Stereolab's grand tone experiment continues to generate ever more delectable side effects. Earth-bound listeners beware--you may not want to leave the house for a few days after exposure to this one.
